Good Sense Is Heritable
by Fay93
Summary: The events of our beloved story unfold in this alternate universe, where good sense is coded for in one’s genetics. The absence of an entail and three silly sisters may or may not prove an expedient. P&P with a sprinkle of NA.
1. Prologue

* * *

**Good Sense Is Heritable**

**Prologue**

* * *

The late Mrs. Bennet, formerly Elizabeth Gardiner, had been a good-natured, sensible woman who had been her husband's equal in every way. The marriage, founded in mutual respect, friendship, and love as it was, could only make them as happy as they imagined they would be. And so they were, for two blissful years, but the birth of twins proved both a felicitous and tragic event.

Naturally, there was that inescapable period of reticence and isolation that Mr. Bennet had to undergo, being a man still very much in love with his wife. After a few weeks of inconsolable misery, however, he resolved – admirably – to live on, if only for the sake of his dear children. Richard and Elizabeth were now the center of his universe, and he devoted himself to them.

Nevertheless, his devotion was not enough; from all quarters he was advised to marry a second time, for the sake of his children's upbringing. At first every feeling in him revolted against the idea – no one could take his dear Beth's place – no one! And yet....

Little Richard and Elizabeth Bennet could not be anything but dear, but Richard had a healthy pair of lungs and gave his father and nursemaid constant proof of it at all hours of the day and (regrettably) night; and Lizzy _would_ delight in attempting to pick up and throw everything within reach, whether it be a toy, her lunch, or Richard.

Mr. Bennet, a respectable gentleman with a healthy estate to his name, was not an unattractive prospect for aspiring wives. Even so, it was not until he met the exceptionally pretty Miss Jennings that he began to court anyone in earnest. He believed Fanny Jennings to be a demure, sweet-tempered young lady, ideally suited to be a good mother to Richard and Elizabeth; before long he proposed, and they were married.

He could not know his mistake until it was too late. By Lizzy's and Richard's third birthday he began to have his doubts, yet pushed them aside – and by the time Clara Bennet was born a year later, Mr. Bennet kept his wife's company but little, if he could help it. Mrs. Fanny Bennet was less of a parent to his children than even his former brother-in-law and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, who were nearly as much at Longbourn as they were in London.

The lack of a sensible mother may seem a harsh circumstance for Richard and Lizzy to grow up in, but anybody's worry would be misplaced, for it is a truth universally acknowledged that

_GOOD SENSE IS HERITABLE_


	2. Chapter 1

* * *

**Good Sense Is Heritable**

**I**

* * *

"Clara, my sweet, have you heard? Netherfield Park is let at last!"

"Yes, but how can it affect _me_, my dear Mama? It is not, after all, as if a single young man of large fortune has leased it. Merely a married couple; and the wife is reputed to be very pretty and in excellent health."

"Ah, Clara, I see you have not heard the _full_ report, though I do not wonder at it. I had it firsthand, you know, from my excellent sister Mrs. Phillips – and she assured me that Mrs. Bingley's _brother_ is also to come."

"Oh? Pray continue, Mama."

"His name is Mr. Darcy, and he has _ten thousand a year_, Clara. Ten thousand a year! – and very likely more."

Clara's eyes gleamed. "And this is the whole of the Netherfield party?"

"Not quite," Mrs. Bennet looked hesitant. "Mrs. Bingley's sister is also come. I think I do recall her name being Georgia, perhaps, or Anne, or something similar. There is also _Mr. _Bingley's sister; a Miss Catherine Bingley. By the by, I really do think that 'Catherine' is such a hideous name. – So common! Do not you agree, Clara my dear?"

"I am not afraid of her," declared Clara stoutly.

"No, indeed. – Not for a minute did I think so," her mother answered admiringly.

* * *

Elizabeth stood to the side observing the assembly of people surrounding her; it was always a hobby of hers, to study the characters of others, and laugh at her neighbours in her turn. Yet, tonight, her mind wandered from her observations; she found herself dwelling morosely on her brother Richard's absence from the assembly, as well as her friend Charlotte's. They would have laughed together, and had a grand time. But _she_ was indisposed, and _he_ was pretending to be, the coward.

Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth caught sight of Isabella Thorpe simpering beside an unenthusiastic Mr. Goulding – and she wondered if perhaps Richard was more wise than cowardly.

She then saw Clara reclining gracefully on a seat, strategically placed in such a way as to make the light shine most flatteringly on her. Even while Elizabeth giggled at the way in which her vain sister was arranging her skirts (her perplexity concerning which arrangement showed off her figure most advantageously evident in her countenance), she must admit that Clara did, indeed, look splendid. Clara had always been extremely pretty, and tonight she was magnificent; although the new dress was slightly ostentatious, it complimented her. And her blush, brought on by the excitement which a busy assembly such as this effected, was not unbecoming.

Elizabeth was distracted from her thoughts by the sudden hush that fell over the crowd. This abrupt silence, Elizabeth saw, was caused by the entrance of what could only be the Netherfield party. A jovial-looking man, a glowing lady hanging on his arm, two pretty young girls, and a very tall, very handsome gentleman, made up the group that had inspired such awe in the assembly, which now was aflutter with nervous murmurs.

Sir William Lucas came forward to greet them, and introductions were soon made abound in the room. Mrs. Bennet, not to be outdone by her neighbours, led her daughters to the cluster.

"My excellent Mrs. Bennet! Allow me to introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy, and Miss Darcy. Please, may I present Mrs. Bennet and her daughters, Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Miss Clara Bennet."

All the necessary pleasantries so essential to polite company were exchanged; Mr. Bingley, whom Elizabeth recognized as the 'jovial-looking man', declared that he was delighted, which prompted Mrs. Bennet at once to protest that _she_, indeed, was by far the most delighted. This went on for some time, until a few couples began to take their places on the dance floor in preparation for the first set, and Mr. Bingley led his wife to the floor.

Clara looked expectantly at the tall, handsome gentleman, who had been identified as Mr. Darcy. He only looked grave, and turned to the brown-haired young girl beside him.

"Miss Bingley, I would be honoured if you would join me for this dance."

Elizabeth watched with suppressed amusement as Clara gaped after the pair. With an injured look, she turned away, and issued an inviting smile to the hapless Mr. Goulding; that gentleman, on perceiving the invitation, approached her with alacrity and claimed her for the first set. Mrs. Bennet hid her disappointment well enough, for her, and went to join Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long seated not far away, lamenting the ill manners of one young man from Derbyshire – and consequently, Elizabeth found herself standing alone with Miss Darcy.

She made an inane comment on the size of the room, and the number of couples; Miss Darcy replied briefly; and after a short while conversation languished. Elizabeth looked archly, and tried again:

"Well, Miss Darcy, it is your turn to say something now. Perhaps you could make some remark about how delightful you find Hertfordshire scenery, or the dreadful drab weather we have experienced since your arrival."

"Whatever you wish me to say will be said," Miss Darcy replied with a shy smile. "And I certainly do hope you do not blame us for the disappointing weather."

Elizabeth laughed, and said in a teasing tone, "I fear, Miss Darcy, that you must have been the cause of it. I imagine that the sun saw a rival for its brightness in your eyes, and therefore refused to come out in fear of being disregarded for a fairer object."

Miss Darcy blushed, and protested. "Miss Bennet!"

Elizabeth only laughed again, and said conspiratorially, "It is the exact same thing someone said to me once, you know, in an attempt at flattery. It was rather too blatant for my taste, which fact I made known to him."

"You did not!"

"Indeed I did. – He is my brother Richard."

Miss Darcy giggled. The conversation then turned to Elizabeth's family at Longbourn, and progressed agreeably from there. By the end of the first set, they were calling each other by their first names, and when Elizabeth left her for a dance with Mr. Goulding, they parted on both sides with equal satisfaction at having found a friend in the other.

Since the ratio of genders for that evening was much in favour of the gentlemen, Elizabeth found herself obliged to sit out a dance, and conversed with Mrs. and Miss Bingley, who were seated on either side of her, as Miss Darcy enjoyed a set with her brother-in-law. She found them both to be well-bred ladies of sense and education, and reflected that wealth did not always necessitate a snobbishness of behaviour.

Mrs. Bingley was a serene, beautiful young woman, only recently married. There was a light in her eyes as she regarded her husband that Elizabeth envied, at least for her father and Mrs. Bennet, in whose eyes she had never detected such emotion. She imagined that she might have, were her mother still alive, and the thought sobered her – but only for the fraction of an instant, as the atmosphere of a dance is not entirely conducive to solemnity, and Elizabeth was not the sort of dramatic heroine who seemed made for unhappiness.

Miss Bingley was a pleasant, fresh-faced young girl, about the same age as Georgiana Darcy. She was less shy than her friend, but was by no means forward, although this hardly reduced from her amicability, for she took part in the conversation with gratifying pleasure.

"You must call on us sometime, Miss Bennet," Mrs. Bingley said. "You would always be welcome at Netherfield."

"I would not wish to impose."

They hastened to assure her that it would not be an imposition at all, rather a pleasure, and Elizabeth smilingly thanked them for the courtesy. To be so sincerely liked was very flattering, and she found herself anxious to continue the acquaintance.

Elizabeth was surprised when Mr. Darcy approached her, the gravity of his countenance still apparent, to claim her for the next set. Elizabeth faltered a little in replying that the honour would be hers, but despite this refused to be affected. His ten thousand a year, astonishingly good looks, alleged ownership of nearly half of Derbyshire, and grave mien, shall not faze _her_.

Their dance was silent, and during which Elizabeth concluded that he must be either painfully shy, or disdainfully mute. She did not know why he had asked her to dance in the first place, when it was distressingly evident that he was not deriving any pleasure from the activity at all.

"Mr. Darcy, do you find yourself enjoying the evening?" she asked eventually.

"Yes."

The answer was abrupt and unyielding; Elizabeth felt a faint anger rise in her chest, and regarded him defiantly. Insufferable man! – Could he not at least give the appearance of pleasure? He must have an abominable quantity of pride.

"Your sisters are lovely," she persisted.

He seemed on the brink of speaking, perhaps echoing the complimentary sentiment, but stopped himself after throwing an apprehensive glance in Clara's direction. He simply nodded. Elizabeth lowered her head to hide a smile, but her annoyance at the man did not abate.

She was a little surprised when he spoke.

"My sisters like you." There was such frankness in his tone as to be refreshing – but the slight perplexity also evident was not quite so flattering.

"There is a small group of people who do, yes," replied Elizabeth, with a pert smile. "Or so I flatter myself." She was, however, a little offended, which her partner noted with a little alarm.

Discomfited, he stumbled, "Forgive me. I did not mean to say—"

The dance ended, and Darcy escorted his partner back to her seat. He wavered for a moment as he stood uncertainly by her side, until a breathless Mrs. Bennet approached and regarded him coolly.

"And what have you been up to, Miss Lizzy?" she said pointedly. "Neglecting your sister shamefully! Clara has been wanting to speak with you. Ah, she is coming right now."

Elizabeth was amused to see Mr. Darcy's expression transform into one of alarm, as he noted the predatory gleam in both Clara's and Mrs. Bennet's eyes. He stiffened perceptibly.

"What would you speak to me of, Clara?" asked Elizabeth. Mrs. Bennet narrowed her eyes at her step-daughter as she said this, and retreated back to her place by Mrs. Long's side, attempting to bring Elizabeth with her, but failing.

Clara smiled coyly at Darcy while addressing Elizabeth, "Merely to inquire as to how you are getting on, my dear Eliza. I saw you sitting out quite a few sets, and I worried that you might feel... neglected."

Elizabeth merely smiled grimly and said, "Thank you for your concern." Clara chose to ignore the light sarcasm in her sister's tone.

"You always sit out so very frequently at this type of thing," she said. "I suppose it is nothing new or surprising at all, but it must be a trial. Poor Eliza, but you are looking well tonight, I suppose." Clara's tone was scornful.

Darcy shifted awkwardly, and looked at Elizabeth, who was blushing slightly in mortification. He said stiffly, "It has been a pleasure, Miss Bennet. If you will excuse me now?"

Clara watched in dissatisfaction as he left; and after a while went away herself, making her initial purpose in coming over abundantly clear to Elizabeth.

She was not permitted to dwell overmuch on these depressing sentiments, however, as soon her new friends made their way over to her, and kept for her a much more pleasant company. Elizabeth soon found herself accepting an invitation to call on them at Netherfield the day after next.

When Longbourn's carriage came round to collect the three Bennet ladies home at the conclusion of the assembly, Elizabeth reflected that perhaps it was not such a waste of an evening after all, as she had feared initially.


	3. Chapter 2

**

* * *

**

**Good Sense Is Heritable**

**II**

* * *

Richard kept in step with his sister as they strolled along Longbourn's well-trodden paths. He had invited himself along to accompany Elizabeth on her habitual morning walk, a circumstance facilitated somewhat by Mrs. Bennet's uncommonly early appearance at the breakfast table.

"I wonder what _your _impression of our new neighbours are, Lizzy."

"I would think that you had heard enough about them to last a lifetime."

"Our lady's charming description only made me regret that I had not been there to witness, firsthand, the splendour of Mrs. Bingley's gown and Mr. Bingley's fine person."

"Do not regret anything. Isabella Thorpe was there."

Richard shuddered.

Elizabeth grinned at him. "Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were perfectly affable – indeed everything that is charming. Mrs. Bingley is my age, and Miss Bingley and Miss Darcy I should also wish to know better, despite their being rather younger than myself. And as to Mr. Darcy," she continued. "The only splendour _there_ was that he was splendidly haughty and proud."

"Do not tell me! He did not dance with you? An offense of the gravest order."

Elizabeth laughed. "He did – although Mrs. Bennet would wish that he had not – but he scarcely spoke five words to me."

"One does not talk by rule, when dancing," chided Richard. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Did he dance with Clara?"

"No."

Richard grinned delightedly. "So that is why she did not mention him beyond the perfunctory. And I suppose Clara, disgusted that he had so early withstood her beauty, has given up her suit of him?"

"She is determined as ever."

"Not too unexpected. Her determination rises with every attempt to quell it," said Richard thoughtfully. He paused, and brother and sister glanced at each other.

"Poor Mr. Darcy!" they both said emphatically, in perfect unison.

Giggling, Elizabeth said, "Mr. Darcy would be appalled at being the object of pity from such unsophisticated country folk as we. I do not believe he would take well to pity of any kind at all, actually."

"He does sound very proud. Does he have a right to be?"

"_Twenty_ thousand a year could not excuse such abominable pride," insisted Elizabeth.

"Methinks the lady doth—"

"Richard, do not even finish that thought."

Grinning unrepentantly, he shook his head at her.

"It is very odd," continued Elizabeth. "Very odd, that his sisters should be so pleasant while _he_ is the very opposite. Jane and Georgiana are everything that is amiable and good-humoured, but you will never hear his brother described as such. And you will find that there is not a soul in Meryton who will disagree with me on the subject of his disagreeableness."

Richard chuckled. "He snubbed you. I knew it!"

"Richard! – no, no he did not. Why do you protest so to the objectivity of my perspective? Have I not always been a fair judge of character?"

Her brother only shrugged.

"And even if he _did_ snub me"—Elizabeth scowled at Richard's smug grin—"and he was not far from it – but even if he did snub me, it is little likely to affect _me_."

"Why not? Is he unbearably ugly? Stupid? Heaven and earth, he didn't step on your toes, did he?"

"No," Elizabeth continued to scowl. "He was not hideous, not really dim-witted, and he is a – a fair dancer."

"And you don't like him? Elizabeth, are you or are you not a young lady of marriageable age?"

"No, I am an old maid."

"No, you are not."

"In the eyes of the world, I am 'on the shelf', so to speak," said Elizabeth with mock-solemnity. "Although I must say that I prefer it to being on the storefront."

"You are not an old maid, nor are you on the shelf."

"I am closer to thirty than I am to twenty!" Elizabeth said with a saucy grin. "And you are too."

"That does not make you an old maid. Or me, for that matter. You only want to think you are old because 'old' commonly connotes 'wise'," Richard informed her. "If you can be nothing of the sort, you must lead others to believe it to be the case."

Elizabeth gave an outraged cry; laughing, her brother took off at a speed ill-fitting the dignified age of six-and-twenty, and without a thought, Elizabeth charged after.

* * *

"You are to dine at Netherfield?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Mrs. Bingley invited you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"But not Clara?"

"No, ma'am."

Mrs. Bennet scowled, and then gave a harrumph for good measure. "Pray cease talking at once, Elizabeth. You do not know how my nerves suffer! – Be silent, if you please."

Elizabeth was silent – until she caught her brother's eye, and then she coughed into her napkin.

Clara sat stony-faced, eating her dinner with a truly robotic aspect, and Mr. Bennet was smiling, whether at Mrs. Bennet's silliness, the twins' identical expressions, or the mantelpiece, nobody knew.

Mrs. Bennet and silence never did go together for any extended period of time, so it was not long before she spoke again. This time, her tone was smug. "I do not think you _can_ go, Lizzy."

"Why not?" Richard asked in his sister's stead.

"The horses cannot be spared!"

Elizabeth's napkin went up again as she smothered a smile at the childish triumph in her stepmother's expression. "Papa? Can the horses not be spared?"

"They are needed on the farm," stated Clara as if Elizabeth was a simpleton not to arrive at the same conclusion.

"Are they indeed?" Elizabeth directed this to her father.

"They are needed on the farm much oftener than I can get them," Mr. Bennet said, throwing an expressive glance at his wife, who failed, or pretended to fail, to notice.

"Then I shall walk."

A couple moments of silence followed this remarkable declaration, and then Mr. Bennet smiled fondly at his favourite child.

"I know you shall."

* * *

"Do you think she will come after all?" asked Catherine anxiously by the window. Rain poured down in sheets, and the sky was dark and unrelenting. The curtains twitched nervously.

"If she does not, we will merely issue an invitation for another day," her sister-in-law answered serenely, taking a sip of her tea.

Georgiana glanced up from the novel she held in her hands. "Come away from the window, Cathy."

"Oh! I am half bored out of my mind," Catherine said after a few minutes, now sitting beside Jane on the sofa.

Nobody said anything to this. Her sisters had always been more given to introspection than she. Georgiana was absorbed in _The Mysteries of Udolpho_ – which Catherine had persuaded her to read – and Jane was smiling absently at the wedding ring on her finger.

Cathy let out a little huff, and said, "How do you like _Udolpho_, Georgy? Is it not perfectly fascinating?"

Georgiana's soft voice was a little hesitant. "It is – interesting – I mean, it commands your attention – in a dramatic way – yet, I do find it slightly... bewildering, at parts."

"That is what makes it fascinating," Catherine declared.

"I rather wonder if it's a good sort of fascination," said Georgiana doubtfully. She glanced at Jane. "I do not think brother would like it, do you, Jane?"

"He is a great deal too apt to dislike things in general," Jane replied.

"Jane!" said Catherine, awed. "You said something – something not complimentary."

Georgiana and Catherine giggled as they watched their sister trying to assume a dark expression, and failing. Jane opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment, to all their surprise, a visitor was announced.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

The servant stepped aside to reveal a very real, very wet Elizabeth. Jane was the first to react, by persuading her to stand nearer to the fire, and then the exclamations of shock followed.

"The carriage could not be had, but it was not so bad," said Elizabeth frankly, to Catherine's incredulous "You walked?"

"It looks very bad," Georgiana told her. "The weather, I mean. It is raining so hard!"

"It generally is when one has forgotten one's umbrella," Elizabeth said with a rueful smile at her sodden hat.

They all laughed, with an ease that was really quite sisterly.

"My brother – and Jane's and Georgy's – are dining with the officers," Catherine said, in an odd half-eager, half-formal tone.

"Elizabeth – you are shivering," exclaimed Jane. "Come, sit by me."

"Why did you not ride?" Georgiana wanted to know.

"Horses are dreadful things," Cathy wrinkled her nose.

Elizabeth laughed. "We are of the same opinion, then, I see."

"Cathy had a rather disagreeable episode involving a horse when she was small," said Jane affectionately.

"Charles told you!" cried Catherine, blushing. She sniffed. "He tells you everything."

"Are you so surprised?" Georgiana asked her.

Jane smiled to Elizabeth. "They are not always so energetic. It is the inclement weather that has forced us all to stay inside—"

"Excepting me," Elizabeth said.

"Excepting you," Jane agreed with an answering smile.

The air was warm and cozy; the company, engaging. Everyone exclaimed how quickly time had flown by when dinner was announced, except Elizabeth, who felt the blood rush to her head as she stood up. She wavered.

Jane was instantly at her side, steadying her. "Are you all right?"

"Elizabeth, you look pale," Georgiana said, worry furrowing her pretty brow. "Does she not look pale?"

"She does," Cathy concurred. "Elizabeth, you look dreadful."

"Thank you. Do not look so anxious. I am fine," said Elizabeth with a wobbly smile. She extracted her arm and walked – or tried to – towards the doorway.

"Elizabeth—"

"I think – I think I'm going to faint," whispered Elizabeth, holding a hand to her head. And then she promptly did precisely that.

* * *

"Jane?" her voice was too raspy for her liking, and she coughed to clear it.

"Yes, dear?" _Jane's_ voice was gentle, and she laid a soothingly cool hand on her fevered brow.

"I feel horrible."

"I am not surprised to hear it."

Then Elizabeth looked around her in alarm. "Jane! I am – I am in Netherfield. In a bedchamber."

"Yes, you are."

"And it is – it is _morning._ The sun is shining!"

"Indeed," Jane permitted herself to smile.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, trying hard to recall. She opened them again, startled. "I _fainted_?" she croaked.

"Yes," Jane was laughing now. "And you were even so kind to inform us before you did so."

Elizabeth coloured. "I am sorry."

"Do not be," Jane's teasing eyes softened into a concerned expression. "How do you feel, Elizabeth?"

"I feel," Elizabeth closed her eyes again, and pondered. "Do you want me to answer honestly?" she asked, opening one eye and regarding Jane skeptically.

"Please do."

"I feel as if a dozen elephants are trampling across my forehead."

Jane laughed, and then promptly concern schooled her features again. She stood up briskly.

"Elizabeth, I am sending for the apothecary"—when Elizabeth made to protest, Jane looked fierce, so she closed her mouth again—"as well as your clothes. And you might write a note, too."

"I will," said Elizabeth weakly, knowing objection was futile.

_My dear brother,_

_I find myself unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends put me up for the night, but besides a sore throat and monstrous headache, there is not much the matter with me. Please give Papa my love – and assure, or condole, Mrs. Bennet and Clara as well as you can. I remain,_

_Yours, &c._

Elizabeth looked over her note, and was satisfied that Richard could not possibly guess she had fainted, and therefore have no occasion to tease her.

"I will send breakfast up to you," Jane told her with a motherly pat on the head, and took the note.

Elizabeth sat up and leaned against the pillows, wondering when, if ever, Jane would let her return home. She was moved to self-pity, for she had hated being confined to any one place even as a child, until a horrifying thought occurred to her.

"I hope Clara does not feel compelled to call on me," muttered Elizabeth to the room. She half-smiled, half-grimaced. "In the name of sisterly love."


	4. Chapter 3

**AN: **A barrel of 'thank you's to those who bothered to review the past chapters!

I won't give anything away -- as I think the speculation is the best part of the tangled web I've made of the characters and their various relations. Keep it coming! ;o) I will say, however, that I've done a fair bit of novel-hopping. And if you examine that point closely, you will see that I have also muddled up the canon timelines. But, what's a generation or two, eh?

Lots of hugs,

~Fay

****

* * *

Good Sense Is Heritable

**III**

* * *

By three o'clock that day, two visitors were announced at Netherfield. Richard and Clara were shown to Elizabeth's room; one was all concern and anxiety, and the other all the appearance of it. Elizabeth soon persuaded them that she was not desperately ill, and the visit was quite unnecessary. Richard, assuaged, soon prepared to leave, and Clara _would_ have (eventually), were it not for Jane's invitation to extend her stay. Clara needed little pressing to accept.

Elizabeth thought piteously that this piece of cordiality was quite uncalled for, and wished Jane's manners not half so obliging as they were. Then she consoled herself with the reflection that Clara was not very likely to spend much time in _her_ company, if she knew her half-sister at all.

Elizabeth's prophesy came to pass with unerring accuracy. It would be generous to say that Clara spent two hours in her sister's room for the whole of the next day. Most of her time was spent in Netherfield's library, hoping to perhaps catch a glimpse of one Mr. Darcy, and impress him with her desire to 'improve her mind by extensive reading'. She had heard his scriptures on what a lady of accomplishment should be, and naturally sought to prove herself worthy of his ideals. Elizabeth could not know this, but, having known her sister for nearly one-and-twenty years, she could hypothesize with considerable precision.

Jane, Catherine, and Georgiana were aware that Elizabeth saw _them _much more frequently than her own sister, although they had too much tact to acknowledge or wonder at it aloud.

Then came an evening when Clara joined her unexpectedly. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in surprise and inquiry.

"Good evening, Eliza," said Clara brightly, taking a seat at her bedside.

"Good evening."

"The gentlemen are out, you know, and the ladies are such queer company – so I thought I'd come up and amuse you for awhile. Heaven knows I have nothing better to do."

Elizabeth sighed. "You could at least maintain a _pretence _that I was the object of your coming to Netherfield."

"Nobody is in hearing. Besides, where is the need for it when I know perfectly well that you're aware of my motive in the first place?"

"Clara," Elizabeth spoke earnestly. "You are determined to secure Mr. Darcy?"

Clara was silent.

"Clara, wealth is not everything—"

"I did not ask for a lecture, Elizabeth, and nor do I need one," Clara said in a not particularly inviting tone.

"You must know that I care only for your happiness." At Clara's scoff, Elizabeth said, "You are my sister, or at least my father's daughter; that has to count for something. Why must you try so hard to make me dislike you, Clara?"

Clara did not answer. She did not need to; Elizabeth supposed she knew well enough. Liking Clara meant exhibiting a sort of equality between them – and Clara was too fond of being assured of her superiority to allow this.

"Mr. Darcy's temperament does not strike me as compatible with your own, Clara," tried Elizabeth.

"And what does that signify? You are too romantic by far, Eliza." There was a scornful edge to Clara's tone.

"I did wish to speak to you about something entirely different, however," said Elizabeth after awhile, knowing it was fruitless to try to pursue the topic. "I feel that we should return to Longbourn soon – perhaps the day after next, if you are amenable to the scheme."

"I am decidedly not in favour of it," said Clara, determinedly avoiding her sister's eyes.

"Clara—"

"What is a few days more? You will lose nothing by it. You are comfortable, I am comfortable, and after Netherfield's luxuries I am sure there would be a lessening in both our levels of comfort were we to return to Longbourn."

"Clara, we could not impose—"

"Eliza, we are not imposing. Mrs. Bingley and her sisters enjoy your company, do they not? – Although I really can't imagine why."

"_Clara._"

"Oh, do not use that tone with me!" cried Clara.

"Do not be stubborn," Elizabeth pleaded.

"You are forever treating me thus – like a petulant child! – And you wonder why I dislike you? Why cannot you simply gratify _my_ wishes, for once?" Clara hissed, in her anger standing up abruptly. "But fine. Do as you wish. I will not be dependent on _you_ to help me in my endeavours; I will achieve everything on my own, without reference to you, or to any other so wholly uncaring of my feelings!"

In a moment Clara was out the door, and Elizabeth could only stare after her in irritation, perplexity, and a little regret that she had never really understood her sister.

* * *

The next day Elizabeth devoted herself to convincing Jane that she felt well enough to go home; she was met with such violent opposition, however, that Elizabeth had no choice but to placate her friend by changing her petition to that of leaving her room, if only for a couple of hours. Jane relented.

Therefore, when the ladies removed after dinner, Jane appeared to help her down. After much fussing, Jane decided that she was well enough guarded from the cold, and attended her into the drawing room; there she was welcomed by her two friends with many professions of pleasure, the sincerity of which, in Elizabeth's mind, surpassed that of her sister Clara's.

Nevertheless, Clara said, with a warm smile firmly fixed in place, "Dearest Eliza! You have joined us!"

"I am glad you feel well enough to do so," was Georgiana's quiet but earnest greeting, and Elizabeth beamed as Jane helped her to the seat next to her young friend.

"I have felt 'well enough' to do much more than this," replied Elizabeth with a smiling glance for Jane. "I still need to persuade your sister of that, however. She will not hear of my returning home, but I wish to do so before Monday, for certain."

"Oh, but that is only two more days, Elizabeth!" cried Cathy. "You must stay for much longer than that."

"Indeed," interjected Clara. "I would not jeopardize your health for the world, Eliza."

Elizabeth turned away to roll her eyes; still, she had never seen her sister so agreeable as she was during the hour which passed before the gentlemen appeared. She took part in the conversation with cheerfulness and spirit, and her manner to herself, for once, was kind and solicitous. Though it pained her to realize that this was entirely due to the presence of Mr. Darcy's sisters, Elizabeth found herself wishing that her sister's attention was less superficial than it was, for Clara's sake as well as her own.

When the gentlemen entered, Clara's eyes were instantly turned towards Mr. Darcy, and she had something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. Her dearest sister Eliza was instantly forgotten – and the place she had won in Jane's estimation, for having shown Elizabeth such kind consideration, was lost again.

Elizabeth, unperturbed, only smiled wryly, and watched as Clara tried to finagle more than two monosyllables from Mr. Darcy, before he engaged his brother-in-law, Mr. Bingley, in quiet conversation. It really was quite amusing from an objective perspective, but Elizabeth was not objective; she could only feel embarrassment for her sister's false vivacity, which bordered on impropriety.

Georgiana was soon entreated to give a performance. Elizabeth enthusiastically encouraged her to play, having heard of her great talent, which her friends had not neglected to mention. With a rosy countenance, Georgiana acquiesced shyly, saying that they must not make her sing, and then addressed Elizabeth,

"Lizzy, after this, _you_ must play. Won't you?" she begged.

Elizabeth hesitated – her skill on the pianoforte was tolerable, but she was loathe to perform for those who were used to hearing the best.

"Yes, you must!" Catherine then cried, and was seconded by her brother; the matter was settled.

"Very well," Elizabeth said complacently.

"You need not, Elizabeth, if you do not feel well enough," Jane whispered anxiously.

Elizabeth smiled a little. "Oh, Jane, I assure you that I am at least twenty times better than you suppose me to be."

"You shouldn't _sing your own praises_, Eliza," Clara said, smiling at her own play on words. She thought they were speaking of her sister's piano-playing.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment Georgiana began to play, and the room fell silent.

There was much beauty to admire in Georgiana's playing – flawlessly executed, but more than that, she played as though she were one with the instrument. It was hard to describe, but Elizabeth found that never had she heard both proficiency and expression taken to such a level in a single sonata.

Even Clara, who had never had the patience for music, was absorbed in it now; there was a smile on her lips – a smile, for once, that held neither mockery nor malice – and her eyes wandered from Mr. Darcy for the first time in the evening.

There was wholehearted applause in response to the conclusion of her song. Georgiana retreated diffidently, and as she passed her brother, he caught her hand and pressed it. Elizabeth was surprised and touched to see the tenderness in Mr. Darcy's smile, which promptly disappeared when his eyes met hers.

Georgiana accepted the praise Elizabeth enthusiastically bestowed on her with quiet pleasure, and Catherine reminded her that it was her turn to play now.

"I am afraid that after such a great performance, mine will seem rather shoddy," said Elizabeth seriously, and Georgiana blushed.

"I am certain that you play very well, Miss Bennet," protested Mr. Bingley.

"My sister wishes us all to beg," Clara murmured to Mr. Darcy, but within hearing of everybody. Jane glanced up sharply, startled, and Mr. Bingley's jaw dropped a little.

Catherine pointedly 'begged' her friend to perform, and with a heightened colour, Elizabeth sat down at the instrument.

Her technique was by no means excellent, but there was artlessness and spirit in her execution, which kept her playing from contrasting too greatly with Georgiana's in terms of expertise. Her voice being not yet fully her own, she did not sing; pretty soon her piece was done, drawing polite applause from her small audience. Standing from the stool, and raising her eyes, Elizabeth was surprised to find Mr. Darcy's gaze intent on hers. She looked away in confusion.

"That was lovely, Elizabeth," Jane said. Elizabeth blinked and turned to her, thanking her weakly in reply.

As she sat down, she didn't catch Jane's sly glance at her brother, or the latter's quick shake of his head, both actions which would have undoubtedly perplexed her to no end.

* * *

"Oh! Wouldn't it be grand! But do you really suppose there's something there?" Catherine's voice floated into the hall.

Elizabeth shook her head smilingly at the signature eagerness in her tone, and entered the room.

"Elizabeth!" Georgiana said brightly, gesturing for her to sit down.

"If Jane was here, she would have an apoplectic fit at your venturing down alone," said Catherine, trying to muster up a stern expression and disapproving tone.

"Where _is_ she?" Elizabeth wanted to know, avoiding the topic.

"Out calling – with my brother," was the prompt reply.

"And _my_ brother is in the library," Georgiana volunteered, seemingly out of the blue – and then, "Speaking of which—"

"That is _not_ how it is done, Georgiana!"

"That is not how _what_ is done?" Elizabeth asked, amused.

Catherine discreetly kicked her friend's shin. "Nothing," she said, eyes wide with innocence.

"What we wanted to know—"

"We do not want to know _anything_, Georgy," said Catherine witheringly.

Elizabeth was, by this time, exceedingly diverted. "You are acting very strangely," she remarked. "Is there something you would like to ask me?"

"Yes—"

"No!"

Elizabeth smiled with a touch of confusion.

Catherine coughed. "Where's Clara, Lizzy?"

"In the library, I would guess," she shrugged. "That is where you said Mr. Darcy is." Clara's intentions were no secret anymore, and the girls had grown close enough for a certain amount of discretion to be rendered unnecessary, within their circle, that is.

"Well..." Georgiana said, averting her eyes.

"What is it, Georgy?"

"I _might_ have met her in the hall, and—" Georgiana worried at her lip. "I _might_ have told her I _thought_ my brother was in the garden."

"Oh, well _done_, Georgy," said Catherine, awed by this stroke of brilliance. Deviousness certainly came from the least expected places.

"You don't think it was wrong?" Georgiana asked anxiously, searching Elizabeth's face.

"Of course it is wrong, although I find myself unable to wholly disapprove," said Elizabeth gravely.

Relief flickered across Georgiana's face.

"In any case, speaking of—" Catherine started to say.

Georgiana's brow furrowed. "I thought that wasn't how it was done, Cathy?"

Catherine ignored her, but grew a little flustered. "What do you think of him, Lizzy?"

"What do I think of whom?"

"My brother," supplied Georgiana.

Elizabeth peered at the younger girls, puzzled. "Why should my opinion matter? He is a good person, I suppose."

"A good person—"

"—you suppose?"

"Indeed," Elizabeth said. Catherine looked downcast – comprehension dawned. Catherine admired him, of course. That is why she sought her opinion, as a friend; no longer at a complete loss, Elizabeth smiled gently. "I am sure that he is the epitome of all that is amiable and good, to those who have the fortune of being on intimate terms with him," she said, her fingers crossed.

The younger girls glanced at each other; this was promising. Elizabeth implied that she wished to be on closer terms with him.

Catherine perked up immediately. "Oh, do you really think so, Lizzy? That is _wonderful._ Absolutely _marvellous._"

Elizabeth's mouth quirked; she would miss her friends when she returned home tomorrow.


End file.
